


this night's almost over

by Lauren (notalwaysweak)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 00:13:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13752147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalwaysweak/pseuds/Lauren
Summary: Fjord and Jester continue their--well. Fjord doesn't want to label it, but whatever it is he's enjoying the hell out of it, even if it means attempting to have very quiet sex in the same room as the rest of the party, one of whom is not as asleep as Fjord and Jester think.





	this night's almost over

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [let's go, don't wait](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13650075) by [Lauren (notalwaysweak)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalwaysweak/pseuds/Lauren). 



> Bless you Matt Mercer for ending episode five in a bedroom. Part two of three of the ship challenge thing that I really should have named so I could refer to it; the final part will be written after episode ten.
> 
> Not super duper explicit but there's definitely more than just a hint of what's going in where.
> 
> Not mine, just borrowing.
> 
> * * *

Jester loves dirty talk.

It doesn’t even have to be all _that_ dirty; Fjord’s discovered that even something cheeky like, “Hey, Jester, that dress looks real pretty on you, but it’d look prettier on the floor beside my bed,” makes her giggle and turn a charming shade of azure.

But when they’re all six of them—seven, Fjord supposes, if you count Caleb’s cat-bird—crammed into the one room in Alfield, and Jester tucks herself into his bed after everyone else has had a reasonable chance of falling asleep, he doesn’t stop at cheeky.

“Jester, hon, do you really think I’m gonna be able to fuck you properly with everyone else right here?” he breathes into her ear as she snuggles her ass against his groin. She is gloriously naked and Fjord’s glad he stripped off under the covers before she invited herself in. He can’t say he didn’t anticipate this from the way she’s been looking at him all evening.

“Performance anxiety?” Jester asks, wiggling her tail, making Fjord hitch a breath. He recommences breathing, trying to match it to hers to calm down, but hers is too light and quick. “No... I can feel you.” Her tail lifts up, coils around him, and Fjord bites his lip, one hand gripping her hip.

“You are one gorgeous, _un_ subtle woman.”

The tip of her tail circles the tip of his cock, and Fjord lets out a low groan, sinking his teeth back into his lip a moment too late. Beau stirs, mutters something unhappily in her sleep, and Fjord hears the clack of wood on wood as she pulls her staff against her like a child’s comfort toy.

“You know you want the challenge.” Jester turns her head, kisses his lower lip. “To see if you can make me come without waking anyone up.” She grins; Fjord can feel the curve of her lips against his. “And to see how good it feels with the risk of being caught.”

Fjord’s cock twitches, encircled by her tail. This time when he groans Jester catches the sound with her mouth, tongue darting hot against his. She tastes of sugar and wine.

His gentlemanly concern about impropriety has diminished greatly over the last few days. The fear of dying, his nightmare, their battles, all have combined to push him to indulge in behavior a little more reckless than his standard. So, when Jester spreads her thighs, tail tugging him forward, Fjord pushes into her from behind and pulls her firmly back against him with the hand on her hip. She’s as hot as usual, and wet enough that she’s probably been playing with herself while waiting for an opportune moment.

They haven’t tried this position before, Fjord vaguely thinking her tail would be an issue, but Jester holds it straight up along her spine and the only issue is that she starts flicking his nipples with the tip.

“Woman, you are downright wanton.”

“Well, yes,” Jester says, as though he’d merely described her as _blue_ or _a fan of pastries_.

Across the room, a mumbled word from Caleb brings a single light into view. Fjord and Jester both freeze. He can’t see her face, but for his part he’s got his eyes as closed as he can manage to feign sleep and still get a peek at Caleb.

For all that he’s worried about getting caught and the repercussions, he’s still hard as can be, and he’s not all that deterred by one sleepy human wizard. Fjord’s hand creeps down over Jester’s hip, in between her thighs, to slip against the one particular spot that makes her turn her head and bite his forearm where it’s tucked under her neck.

Caleb sits up, doesn’t even glance in their direction, but merely readjusts the blanket over Nott. Fjord doesn’t recall where Nott began the night, but right now she’s curled up on Caleb’s feet like a cat, and the actual cat, who’s still a bird, is perched on the end of the bed.

The light goes out again, and Fjord wriggles the arm under Jester’s neck to the point where he can reach her breasts. He ghosts the lightest strokes with the very tips of his fingers over her skin until he’s reasonably sure that Caleb is asleep, then pinches one nipple, earning himself another bite and a rough jerk of her hips.

“Fjord, _harder_.”

How she can be so demanding in a _whisper_ is beyond him.

He moves his hips steadily, rubbing her clit in little circles, listening to her whimpering stifled against his forearm. She’s going to leave a serious bite mark there and, as much as they’ve agreed to keep this quiet from the others for the time being, Fjord hopes he doesn’t have to cover it up.

“You’re so hot,” he whispers in her ear. “So wet… been looking forward to this?”

Gods, it hurts when she nods her head while her teeth are still gripping his flesh, but the intoxication of being wanted overrides it.

There’s a muffled groan from Mollymauk’s general direction that almost makes Fjord freeze again, but Jester makes a scarily similar muffled sound and then she’s shuddering around him, against him, and Fjord has to concentrate on not adding his own voice to the post-midnight chorus of quiet moaning.

He almost succeeds, except that Jester’s got a way of _squeezing_ around him, and though he does press his mouth against her shoulder, nose in her soft blue hair, an unmistakable low “ _fuck_!” escapes him.

Jester sticks her hand under his pillow, retrieves a handkerchief that Fjord doesn’t remember her putting there, and does a quick cleanup that leaves him only a little sticky. She kisses his nose and then hurtles back to her own bed before anyone else can wake up.

_Almost_ anyone.

Molly may have gone quiet now, but Fjord likes to consider himself to be generally familiar with the sound of a person’s vocalization at the moment of orgasm, and he’s pretty sure that he just indirectly got a second tiefling off tonight as well.

Well. He’s not the sort of main to recoil at the thought; gods all know he’s seen plenty before, and done some too. Hells, it even makes him wonder whether maybe the three of them might try something together, one of these nights. It sure seems like the kind of thing Jester might like and, though there’s not a big label he’d put on their—dalliance? Carousing?—he does like to please her. Who knew one little blue tiefling woman could bypass his sense of courtliness so quickly and thoroughly?

When Fjord falls asleep, it’s with a wry smile still stretching his cheeks.


End file.
